


Love a Man (in Uniform)

by purpleeyesandbowties



Series: now that we're free [2]
Category: EOS 10 (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, so much cheesy fluff, written for a pal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 16:50:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7061149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleeyesandbowties/pseuds/purpleeyesandbowties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m starting to think you don’t actually want me there,” he said casually, caught between amusement at Ryan’s worrying and actual apprehension that he really didn’t want him to come. It would make sense if he didn’t—name cleared or not, Akmazian doubted many of the high-ups in the Alliance wanted to spend their evening rubbing elbows with a former terrorist (presumed) and spy (actual). Akmazian felt the same way about them.</p>
<p>Or, the one where Ryan takes Akmazian to a fancy Alliance shindig</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love a Man (in Uniform)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Macremae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macremae/gifts).



> for my good friend and pal, aria. the original prompt was "K so established relationship, after Ak's name is cleared they have to go to this nice government dinner n shit, and Ryan is supposed to wear his super nice Alliance Commander uniform and Akmazian likes VERY MUCH if you catch my drift"   
> aria, i tried my best.

“You don’t have to come, you know,” Ryan said for the third time that day, poking his head out of the bathroom. Akmazian was sprawled on the bed, holding up two different ties, trying to decide if navy or dark red would be better.

“I’m starting to think you don’t actually want me there,” he said casually, caught between amusement at Ryan’s worrying and actual apprehension that he really _didn’t_ want him to come. It would make sense if he didn’t—name cleared or not, Akmazian doubted many of the high-ups in the Alliance wanted to spend their evening rubbing elbows with a former terrorist (presumed) and spy (actual). Akmazian felt the same way about them.

Ryan sighed, stepping across the room to drop a kiss on Akmazian’s head. “Of course I want you there,” he said.

“Really? Could have fooled me,” Akmazian said good-naturedly, sitting up fully and wrapping an arm around Ryan’s waist. He kissed Ryan, just because wanted to and he could. They’d been doing a lot of ‘just because’-ing over the past two weeks. The trial that had finally cleared Akmazian’s name had been longer and more rigorous than the first. The judge had declared it a ‘conflict of interest’ for Akmazian and Ryan to see each other in person, since Ryan was testifying on his behalf. It had been a long ten months.

As soon as possible after the verdict was announced, Ryan and Akmazian had disappeared, hiding away in a safe house provided by the Alliance. They’d stayed there for safety reasons—a good number of people were still unconvinced of Akmazian’s innocence—and also for a quick pseudo-honeymoon. Because, yeah, that had happened, Akmazian mused, throwing a smile to the ring on his left hand. Two weeks later, they were getting a little stir-crazy, and this Alliance shindig was a perfect opportunity both to escape the little house and to introduce Akmazian back into society. (And for Akmazian to see Ryan in his Alliance uniform. No matter how many times Ryan complained about it being stuffy and uncomfortable, Akmazian’s opinion of it only improved).

Ryan straightened up, pulling away. “Okay, okay, I need to get dressed if we’re gonna be on time.” Akmazian grinned, watching his husband head toward the bathroom, clad only in his (flatteringly tight) Alliance officer dress uniform pants.

“Or you could….not?” he offered, following Ryan and hugging him from behind. Ryan half-shivered, half-squirmed at Akmazian’s hands stroking his bare sides. Akmazian pressed his lips against the base of Ryan’s neck. “You’ve convinced me. Let’s stay home after all.”

Ryan twisted in Akmazian’s arms until they were face to face.

“I do want you there,” he said, his voice serious. Akmazian let the playful façade he’d been keeping up slip away and gave a soft, uncertain smile. He raised his eyebrows, asking ‘you sure?’ without actually saying it. Ryan reached up to cup Akmazian’s face. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?” he asked.

“Of course I do. But, darlin’, I’m not the sort of man—“

“Don’t finish that,” Ryan warned. “We talked about this. I love you, and I want the world to know. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. You’re innocent, you’re free, and you’re mine. I would love to bring my husband tonight…but only if he wants to go. Okay?”

Akmazian kissed Ryan’s neck again, mostly to hide his face. “What did I do to deserve you, love?”

“You ogled at my dick the first time we met and then annoyed me into dating you.”

Akmazian snorted a laugh, the moment broken. He kissed Ryan again, softly. Ryan smiled, tucking a lock of Akmazian’s hair behind his ear.

“Let’s get going.”

\--

The party was loud, crowded, and disappointingly short on alcohol. “Why the fuck is there a drink limit?” Akmazian grumbled under his breath. Ryan snorted into his champagne flute.

“Probably because Urvidian is invited,” he answered. He straightened up, his smiled falling into something bland and professional as a pair of men approached. Their uniforms bore a lot of stripes and badges, which was probably the reason for Ryan’s shift in attitude.

“Commander Dalias,” the first of the men said, nodding. Ryan shook both their hands.

“Admiral Finnegan. Captain DeMora.”

Akmazian watched the three men exchange pleasantries. Of all the things he missed about being a part of the Alliance, small talk with bigwigs was not one of them. Ryan seemed to be doing fine, however. He agreed that yes, he couldn’t believe it had already been a year since the last gala, that of course he was happy to be here. No, it didn’t feel like it had been three years since Admiral Dalias’ death. Yes, he still missed him.

“Oh, yeah,” Ryan said, once the chat had died down. He slipped his arm through Akmazian’s. “This is my plus one, Akmazian.”

“Ah, yes,” said the older of the two, who Akmazian assumed was Admiral Finnegan. “I doubt anyone here doesn’t know who you are. That trial was something else, wasn’t it?”

Akmazian smiled tightly. “Yes sir. I’m just glad it’s over.”

“How long did that whole thing take? A year?”

“Ten months.”

“Right, right. I was surprised the jury didn’t stick you with jail time or anything. Hard to believe you got off scot-free.”

Ryan squeezed Akmazian’s arm. Akmazian slowly unclenched the fist he didn’t know he was making. Ryan said, “My _husband_ and I are just glad it’s over and done with. If you’ll excuse us, sirs, we should really find our seats.”

The men raised their eyebrows at the emphasis Ryan placed on the word, but the subject was, thankfully, dropped.

Akmazian gritted his teeth through five more minutes of parting pleasantries. Ryan ran hand down his arm as the two men walked off, probably to terrorize-slash-annoy another unsuspecting partygoer. “You’re doing fine,” he whispered. Some of the tension in Akmazian’s shoulders melted away at the reassurance.

“I know I shouldn’t be angry. It’s a stupid thing to be mad about. But it’s men like them that made me into an outlaw in the first place. The people in charge who let me take a fall to save their own asses.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Ryan guided Akmazian over to the bar, sat him down, and went off to hobnob some more. Akmazian knew that Ryan wasn’t fond of this aspect of Alliance employment either. But he was pretty good at it, regardless. Akmazian watched him talking with a small group of commanders. He seemed a lot more comfortable with people of his same rank.

Akmazian sipped his drink, watching over the rim. Ryan looked natural, talking with the other commanders. He looked confident, happy, but slightly detached. Professional. He’d complained about how uncomfortable his dress uniform was (often), but it fit him well. _Very_ well. There was something about the cut of the fabric that made Ryan’s shoulders seem wider, his legs longer. The uniform hugged him, just this side of too tight, showing off his toned chest, his strong arms. And his ass….Akmazian downed the rest of his drink, suddenly very glad he was sitting down. Goddamn. Why did his husband have to be so fucking hot?

After that, it got harder to concentrate on anything that wasn’t Ryan. They eventually sat down for dinner and Akmazian hardly tasted whatever the hell they served. Ryan was talking animatedly with an old from Academy. Sneakily, Akmazian placed a hand on Ryan’s knee. Ryan paused for a second, but continued speaking without a glance towards Akmazian. Feeling braver, Akmazian slid his hand further, to rest on Ryan’s thigh. A light pink blush settled high on Ryan’s checks. He shifted a hair closer to Akmazian and continued his conversation.

Akmazian smirked, letting his hand wander a little further. Ryan turned a shade redder and moved his leg away. He moved it right back again, so Akmazian took it as the gentle reprimand it was and settled for rubbing his thumb in a circle against Ryan’s thigh.

Under the pretense of stealing a bite from Akmazian’s plate, he muttered, “See? This is what I meant. I can’t take you out in polite company.”

“I can’t help it that my husband is too hot. Not my fault,” Akmazian whispered back.

Ryan considered for a moment, his own hand traveling a dangerous distance up Akmazian’s leg.

“Hands off for the rest of the night and I’ll make it worth your while,” he murmured. He squeezed Akmazian’s leg once more and withdrew his hand. Akmazian shifted in his seat.

“That’s not fair!” he protested quietly. Ryan just shrugged, looking smugly satisfied.

\--

After dinner, the tables were cleared away quickly and an orchestra started up. The first few dances were sparsely populated but soon enough the dance floor filled, first by the younger officers, then the older ones. Akmazian stood off to one side, glumly picking at a piece of cake, while Ryan talked with an old friend of his father’s. Akmazian zoned out, watching the hypnotic changing lights of the dance floor. It was a weird mash up of modern dancing and formal dance. Every few songs the orchestra would start in on a more modern song and the young people would take over the floor. Soon after, the dance would switch back to ballroom dances. So he was people watching and eating sub-par cake. And if he was being honest, he was pouting. Just a little bit.

“Hey,” Ryan said, stepping up next to Akmazian. “Sorry that took so long. What are you doing?”

“Right now? Wishing I was allowed to touch my husband.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. He took Akmazian’s hand. “You’re allowed to touch me. I just don’t want you to _grope_ me in polite company. I can’t be held responsible for what would happen if you did and I have to retain _some_ kind of dignity.”

“‘Wouldn’t be held accountable’, huh?” Akmazian repeated, raising an eyebrow. Ryan threw him a glance.

“I know you can’t help but to gaze longingly at my ass, but just because I’m more subtle than you doesn’t mean that I’m not looking. You look….amazing.”

“Hmm,” Akmazian said, inching closer. “Really? Care to elaborate on that, darlin’?”

Ryan didn’t answer, pulling him towards the dance floor instead. And yeah, Akmazian could work with that.

They danced for the better part of an hour. Ryan was surprisingly good on his feet and it took all of Akmazian’s concentration to pull memories of ballroom dancing lessons from a dusty corner of his mind. He got back into the swing of it after a few songs, letting muscle memory take over and following Ryan’s lead. Eventually, the orchestra struck up a slow number. Akmazian let out a grateful breath—the last three dances had been two consecutive foxtrots and a vigorous waltz, and he needed a minute to catch his breath. Ryan stepped closer, his arms wrapping around Akmazian’s upper back. Akmazian threaded his own arms around Ryan’s waist, bringing them closer together. Ryan sighed in content, laying his head against Akmazian’s collarbone. His breath was warm on Akmazian’s skin and maybe Akmazian _wouldn’t_ be catching his breath during this song after all.  

They rocked back and forth in time with the music, bodies pressing together. Akmazian let out a little sigh without really meaning to.

“What is it?” Ryan mumbled against his neck.

“Hmm? Oh. I just….”

Akmazian shook his head. How could he explain the tightness in his chest that accompanied every reminder that Ryan had, against all odds and logic, chosen him? How could he sum up the intense rush of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him sometimes, just by being his side? He sighed again.

“I just love you, darlin’. So much.”

“I love you too,” Ryan said, sounding as if he understood everything Akmazian wasn’t saying.

The song ended a few timeless moments later. Ryan detached from Akmazian, but didn’t let go of his hand.

“I’ve had just about enough of politics for one night. How about we go home?”

Akmazian nodded in relief. “Please.”

They went to collect their coats in a small room off the ballroom. It was still early, so the small room was full of coats but empty of people. Akmazian grabbed Ryan’s coat and turned to hand it to him, but was stopped by a hand pressing against his chest. Then two hands. And a body.

“What—what are you doing, darlin’?” Akmazian asked.

“I think I promised to make tonight worth your while,” Ryan said, grinning.  He kissed Akmazian, hard and dirty, like he meant business. Akmazian groaned into the kiss, suddenly unconcerned about their semi-public location. Ryan seemed to be on the same page, yanking the coatroom’s door closed and pushing Akmazian up against it. He slipped his hands under Akmazian’s suit jacket.

“You were driving me crazy all night,” Ryan muttered. “I’ve never seen you in a suit before. When you started up my leg during dinner I almost lost it. God, you look so good.”

“You too,” Akmazian said dumbly. He let out a small chuckle, tipping his head back to allow Ryan better access to his neck. “I mean—God Ryan, you’re so—I just—you’re the sexiest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen, fuck.”

He decided there were better things he could be doing with his mouth other than sounding like an idiot. He kissed Ryan, and yeah, that was a _lot_ better.

\--

Twenty minutes later, they slipped out of the coat closet, too flushed and warm to actually wear their coats. Ryan wore Akmazian’s suit jacket over his hastily buttoned dress shirt, carrying the tighter uniform jacket over his arm. They snuck out a back door, forgoing the complimentary cab service from the Alliance to walk further into the city. They ran down the sidewalk, clasped hands swinging between them. Akmazian stopped short suddenly, dragging Ryan to a stop beside him.

“What?” Ryan panted. “Something wrong?”

“No, darlin’,” Akmazian. “I just realized that for once, I’m not running away from anything. Not from the Alliance, or my past, or anything else. For the first time, I’m running _towards_ something.”

“What are you running towards?” Ryan asked. Akmazian kissed his knuckles, pulled him in for a real kiss. He rested his forehead against Ryan’s shoulder. He knew what he was about to say was rom-com levels of cheesy, too stupid to say directly to Ryan’s face. But he said it anyway, because it was true. He had to say it because he was breathless with joy and love and he finally, finally had…..

“A future.”

 

 


End file.
